Brushing the Crumbs from the Table

Our city closed its last Hurricane Katrina shelter this week, evacuees that were chased from one shelter to another by the storm's sibling sister Rita.

"They were handing out hotel vouchers like candy," my source at the shelter said. "Just go, here's a voucher and taxi money, and there's the line of taxis. See ya!"

It's a scene being repeated over and over and over in places that have become safe havens for refugees.

Okay, that quote went through two layers of paraphrase, but it begs the question of what next. Six months in a hotel doesn't rebuild a life. And those left in the shelters were either so totally impoverished that rebuilding their lives requires more than a fluffed pillow for a few months (not that I think they went to those kinds of hotels), or already impaired in their ability to deal with their lives. I met many of them at our city's shelter when thousands were living there for over two weeks.
The difficulty with dealing with lots of people, real people with real problems, makes for weird politics and negative energy spreading weeks after the initial, phyisical impact.
There are some signs of life from the Real New Orleans: communities, or at least streets, that are looking to rebuild. But the carpetbaggers, megacorps, scammers and other forms of sleaze have already tentatively settled on the ruins of this beautiful city, and it will take quite the battle to ensure that the rebuilt city is open to its former residents, and doesn't create another generation of dust bowl refugees spread throughout the United States.